


The Hazier Days

by RushingHeadlong



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hair Braiding, Insecure Brian May, this is just an excuse for soft friendship and writing 70s Brian in a tank top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: It’s too hot for embarrassment as Brian finally caves to the summer heat.
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	The Hazier Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr at @rushingheadlong.
> 
> Original A/N: Listen it’s barely above freezing where I live and I’m coping by writing summer fic do not judge me for this. If anything blame @tenderbri for putting the idea of 70s Tank Top Bri into my head in the first place.

Summer is bearing down on London, the weather turning from pleasantly warm to uncomfortably sweltering in the blink of an eye. 

Brian spends his days working on his thesis research in labs barely cooler than the city outside, slowly boiling in jeans that stick to his legs and shirts unbuttoned a hair past what should be respectable in an academic setting. It’s hardly cooler at night, even with the old windows in his flat propped open and fans blowing stale air around the room, but at least Brian can strip down to his pants in the privacy of his own home. That, at least, is better than the nights where they have shows and Brian is forced into one-too-many layers as a concession to Freddie’s taste in fashion, leaving him soaked through with sweat and light-headed from dehydration by the time he finally stumbles off the stage. 

Evenings, though, are spent here, in the windowless practice room in some forgotten corner of Imperial College as Queen spends hours upon hours in rehearsal. Their efforts are paying off, and with the addition of John their little group is finally coming together in a way that almost feels unreal - but Brian still wonders, sometimes, what he’s doing here, what he hopes to get out of all of this, when his focus should be on his doctorate… 

Tonight, though, the only thing weighing Brian down is the slowly climbing temperature in the room, not guilt over his unfinished dissertation or anxieties over the inevitable fight with his father if Brian decides to set aside his studies. The summer heat sinks into his body, leaving his thoughts lazy and his limbs leadened, only his fingers moving as he plucks out an absentminded tune on his Old Lady, the beginnings of a song coming through with each repetition of the notes. 

“That sounds lovely,” Freddie says. 

His fingers comb gently through Brian’s hair, a soothing gesture that’s almost enough to put Brian to sleep. Across the room Roger and John are working out some fine detail of the rhythm line in the song they’ve been trying to perfect for the last few days, and Freddie had used the small break in practicing to offer to braid Brian’s hair to get the heavy mane off his neck. 

On a normal - or at least a _cooler_ \- day Brian might have demured, embarrassed by his frizzy hair that doesn’t quite know what to do with itself now that he’s not aggressively straightening it every day. But it’s too hot for embarrassment and Brian had ultimately agreed rather quickly, taking a seat on the floor in front of Freddie’s chair to give the singer full access to Brian’s hair. 

“It’s something,” Brian says. He plucks the same note a few times - something sounds off about it, his guitar gone slightly out-of-tune in the heat of the room, but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to fix the issue at the moment.

Even speaking takes far too much effort, Brian’s words coming out soft and almost mumbled as he struggles to think of anything other than how _hot_ he is. He conceded to the heat and wore shorts to the studio, baring his knobbly knees and too-long legs to the world rather than roast in a pair of jeans. His shirt is almost fully unbuttoned and hanging open and loose over his chest, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and _still_ Brian feels like he’s going to melt into a puddle here on the practice room floor. 

“Well, I like it.” Freddie sections out Brian’s thick hair, nimble fingers weaving the strands together into a simple braid and tying off the end with a stolen hair tie. “There. How’s that feel?”

Brian reaches back and touches the braid, running his fingers along the length, feeling the spots where his hair is already fighting to escape its woven confines. Brian wonders what it looks like, and then decides that maybe he’s better off not knowing. “Good. Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome,” Freddie says. “Although…” Freddie plucks at Brian’s shirt, which is drenched with sweat and sticking uncomfortably to his skin. “You still look far too warm, darling. Why don’t you just take this off?”

The others didn’t hesitate to lose their shirts early in the session but Brian has been resisting, undoing more buttons and rolling his sleeves up further rather than relinquishing the garment altogether. Even in the privacy of the practice room room Brian can’t help but feel a thin tendril of shame curl up through his chest at the thought of exposing that much of his body at once. He’s too gangly and too thin, long-limbed in a way that’s awkward instead of enticing, and he thinks he’d rather pass out from heat exhaustion than embarrass himself in front of his friends like that. 

“I don’t want to,” Brian mumbles. 

Behind him Freddie huffs, clearly gearing up to keep pushing the issue, but before he can say anything Roger calls from across the room, “He’s right, mate, you look pretty fucking miserable. There’s a spare shirt in my bag if you want it, at least it’ll be dry and lighter than what you’re wearing now.”

The others are all looking at him now, their scrutiny making Brian’s face flush hotter than it already was. For a moment Brian’s stubborn streak rears its ugly head, makes him want to refuse simply to prove that he’s committed to the decisions he’s already made… but it’s too hot to get into a useless argument with his friends, and once again Brian finds himself quickly relenting to the suggestion. 

“Fine,” he says, and passes his guitar off to Freddie so he can stagger to his feet, grimacing at the feeling of his sticky skin peeling away from the practice room floor. 

Roger’s knapsack is thrown haphazardly against the wall, books and papers and various odds-and-ends spilling out of it, but despite the shock of chaos that seems to always seems to follow the drummer around it doesn’t take Brian long to find the shirt that Roger mentioned - though his heart slowly sinks as he pulls it out of the bag. 

“Rog, is this what you were talking about?” Brian asks, waving the shirt in Roger’s general direction as he digs through the bag with his other hand, even though it’s readily apparent that there are no other clothes there. 

“Yep, that’s the one,” Roger confirms. “Might be a bit short, but it should still fit fine enough to rehearse in.”

“Right,” Brian says faintly, though Roger has already turned back to his conversation with John. 

He looks down at the shirt in his hands and weighs his options. It’s barely a shirt at all, just a tank top, and that’s really the problem here. No sleeves to hide his boney shoulders, no excess fabric to mask how thin he really is, arms and pits on full display… Paired with the shorts he already has on, he might as well be wearing nothing at all for how indecent - and ridiculous - he’s bound to look. 

But then again… if it’s too hot for embarrassment, maybe it’s too hot for propriety as well. 

Before he can start overthinking things again Brian strips out of his shirt, taking just a split-second to relish the feeling of having the damp garment off and the dry air against his skin, before finally tugging on the borrowed tank top. It’s a hair too small, riding up to show a scant few inches of skin along his waistband, to say nothing of how _exposed_ Brian feels having his arms on display like this… He’s profoundly grateful that there aren’t any mirrors in the practice room, so he doesn’t have to see himself like this.

“Hey, that doesn’t look bad on you,” Roger says as Brian tries, and largely fails, to get the tank top to stretch enough to fully cover his stomach. “You wanna keep it? I hardly wear it anyway.”

Brian can’t stop himself from making a face at the suggestion, though some of his anxieties fade away at Roger’s easy compliment and the lack of judgement from the others. 

Only Freddie laughs, but it’s directed at Roger as he says, “Leave him alone, Rog, you know our Brimi doesn’t like your garish taste in clothing.”

“ _Garish_?” Roger echoes, voice full of faux indignation. How they have the energy to wind each other up like this, Brian has no idea. He may be slightly cooler now but Brian still feels tired and sluggish, his thoughts too slow to even begin to join in with the other’s good-natured bickering. 

Instead he makes his way back over to Freddie, taking back his guitar and sinking back to the floor with his back against the wall. The stone feels frigid against his overheated skin and he sighs, almost content for the first time in hours, and lets his eyes slip shut - just for a moment, just until Roger and John are done hashing out this section and they can get back to rehearsal… 

“Freddie, d’you want to show us that new song you were talking about?” John asks, quietly, a few moments later. “Walk us through the rhythm section, and give Brian a chance to cool off for a bit?” He nods towards the guitarist and adds, “He looks like he could use the break.”

Brian doesn’t hear John’s suggestion, or notice when the three of them glance in his direction. He’s already dozed off, lulled to a hazy sleep by the heat, his Red Special held loose in his lap and his long limbs stretched out, sweat drying on his bare skin and a few loose strands of hair blowing gently with every soft exhale. 

Queen doesn’t have much time left in their practice session, but none of them have the heart to wake up Brian now. 

“Sounds like a perfect idea to me,” Freddie says as the three of them dive back into work, and leave their friend to sleep in peace. 


End file.
